


Needs Not Met

by Butterfly



Series: Queering the Text [8]
Category: due South
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-28
Updated: 2004-04-28
Packaged: 2017-10-26 18:51:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterfly/pseuds/Butterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a Conversation with Fraser, Ray finds out something that he isn't thrilled about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Needs Not Met

**Author's Note:**

> Post- _Spy vs. Spy_.

"Partners is sharing, Ray?" Fraser asked, and when Ray glanced over to look at him, Fraser looked way too serious and was completely ignoring his food. Ray took a fortifying gulp of beer -- and Fraser had fucking great taste in beer, which was amazing since he didn't drink it -- and repressed a sigh.

"That's what the man said," Ray answered, putting down his chopsticks and giving Fraser his full attention. This sounded like the start of a Conversation -- that was one benefit to having been married, you could always tell a conversation from a Conversation. At least they were in Ray's own apartment, which was thankfully old people-free now, and not In Public. Stella had had a distressing habit of starting Conversations In Public, when he couldn't talk back as loudly.

"It's what _you_..." Then Fraser sighed and looked away from Ray, his fingers smoothing over his eyebrow. Not a good sign, Fraser being nervous like this. In fact, Fraser looked all around uncomfortable, like he did when he was about to say something that he knew would not be taken well. "Well, I don't suppose that it's important. What is important is..." And Fraser paused again, his tongue darting out to wet his lip as Ray watched in what he was willing to admit was complete fascination.

Because, hell, he'd never known Fraser for this kind of hesitation. Ray waved a hand at Fraser, encouraging him to go on.

"I've decided to stop looking for an apartment. The Consulate is sufficient." Then Fraser got an irritated look on his face, like Ray was arguing with him, which, Ray would have pointed out, he was not. Okay, because he was too busy being in shock, but still. "Sufficient is all that I need, thank _you._ " And that was all sarcastic and annoyed. And Ray hadn't even said anything yet!

"Is it a kinky sex thing with the Ice Queen?" Ray blurted out, because if Fraser was going to be mad at him, it should be for an actual reason. Fraser turned six types of pink, opened his mouth, and then closed it. "Ah-ha, it is!"

"Ray! Don't be ridiculous. Inspector Thatcher and I have a purely professional relationship." Fraser said, that hand up at his face again. Ray snorted.

Ray _didn't_ say, 'Yeah, buddy. Tell it to somebody who didn't see the chick drooling over a mental image of your ass in motion just a few weeks ago. The 'Inspector' has been _made_. She wants that ass, baby.'

"She wants you," Ray said instead, taking another pull on his beer and wishing that there was a way that Fraser could admire his restraint here. "You know that she wants you. Frannie knows she wants you. Blind monks in _Tibet_ know she wants you."

Fraser sighed, maybe because Ray was annoying him, hopefully because he was going to admit that the Ice Queen's fixation could be spotted from the Arctic Square.

"So, why the change of mind, anyway? You seemed to be into it earlier. The apartment search." Fuck, his mouth was getting away with him. Next, he'd be asking if it was his fault. Stupid married-guy habits popped up at the most annoying and inappropriate times.

"It just isn't economical or logical to rent an apartment when Inspector Thatcher is willing to let me stay at the Consulate." And Fraser was giving him the full-on innocent look, which always meant that whatever he was saying wasn't the real reason. It was a _true_ reason, but not the _honest_ reason.

"Partners. Sharing. Spill." Ray leaned back against the back of the couch, giving Fraser his best Chicago cop death stare. Fraser rolled his eyes, looking more irritated by the second. Wasn't looking at Ray, though, because he kept glancing at the corner. The corner that had absolutely nothing interesting in it. And Ray knew this because every time that _Fraser_ looked over there, he found himself looking there.

"It would be a waste of money," Fraser said, but his voice had all kinds of emotional-type things in it that Fraser wouldn't've admitted to. "It would be one thing if I were planning on staying..." Then Fraser did look back at Ray, and he paled, eyes wide and dark, like he was shocked that he was talking. Then he took a deep, shuddery breath and picked up his chopsticks, deftly picking up a chunk of beef.

"Fine. Fraser, I'm not forcing anything here." Ray grabbed his own chopsticks, because neither of them were chicks and Ray was not going to do this again. He was _not_. "You talk when you're ready to talk."

It only took him four tries to pick up a piece of chicken.

Considering how his hand was shaking, Ray counted it as a success.

  


  
_the end_   


  



End file.
